Death Rides the B&O

I guess I probably just stared at him, because he started to talk in a voice peopled use when they've already explained something a hundred times. "I got tired of the same old thing, being that boring all-in-black bald guy. So I got a tan and took up badminton. Some exercise and a change of wardrobe can do wonders, don't you think?"

I just kept staring. He rolled his eyes and pulled at my arm, taking me through a door that obviously hadn't been there before. "Anyway, I've started some support groups and stuff, and I'm feeling generally happier. I think you'd appreciate the change if you could remember how I was before. But when you go back, you never remember who you used to be."

So he began discussing reincarnation and how humans never remember anything and that's just no fun, all the while pulling me down a long hallway. We finally stopped at a door labelled "Processing." "Come on, we'll see if they're ready for you yet."

I couldn't begin to describe the room he led me in to. People of all shapes and sizes rushed about, carrying papers, answering phones and filling out forms. Tristan walked up to the first desk and chatted at length with women sitting there. All I could tell was that something was wrong, but before I could think about what it was, he had turned to me again. He grinned sheepishly and motioned for me to take a seat at a table near the entrance. "Sorry about this, but apparently you weren't supposed to die yet." He pulled a small book from a fold in his clothing, "Nobody figured you were that ticklish. So we've got a deal for you." He tucked the book back into his back pocket and placed his hands on the table. "You can stay dead, or take a trial. You win; you get to go back miraculously. You lose, you have to stay dead until you would have naturally died and help me out with the whole ferrying of souls business in the meantime."

It sounded fair. Since I was already dead, there really wasn't that much to lose. So I agreed. That's when he told me what the trial was. Had I known, I would have stayed dead. There was no reason to put myself through such torture just to come back to life. No one in their right mind would play a board game with Death, let alone Monopoly.

But I had already said yes, and there was no turning back. After he decided he wanted to be the racecar and I got stuck being the wheelbarrow, he started sorting the cash. He whistled the entire time, and his happy attitude was really starting to grate on my nerves. I was positive that his little book had a notation saying I had refused to play Monopoly since age seven when I had choked on a house that my brother had thrown at me during a screaming match.

So I rolled the die, and moved around the board. I could tell from the way he played that he had never lost a game, and was quite proud of it. Turn after turn we moved, buying property and paying meaningless rents. I decided to play like my brother and attempt to throw him off his game. "So, I guess you gave up on chess, huh?" I moved my wheelbarrow to Reading Railroad and pulled out $200. "Lose too many games?"

"No, just got boring. I mean, you can't really get excited over a game of chess. No trading, no money, no die, just...moving pieces." He pushed the racecar to B&O and tossed a small smile in my direction as he pulled out the money. I suppressed my anger, knowing that he was only buying it because the other three railroads were now in my possession. "Besides, once they started talking about me playing chess on cartoons and sitcoms, I gave up on it. I hate being a stereotype, you never get those looks of shock when people meet you." He took the deed to the railroad and twirled it between his fingers for a moment before placing it with his growing stack.

I was trying to resist the temptation, but when I was child, I had to have the railroads. It was all I wanted in the game; I rarely developed property, I never cared to own a "monopoly" but I had to have the railroads. I could tell that he knew that; it was all in that book of his, he knew how to play me for a fool. It's one thing to be dead, but it's quite another to be played with by some poser claiming to be some sort of God of Death that prefers to go by Tristan of all names. I looked at my property, and picked up the only other card that meant anything to me.

"B&O for Boardwalk."

He blinked, but his smile betrayed him, he had wanted this moment. "No deal." He picked up the card again; "You'd have to throw in some cash."

"Get out of jail free card."

"I said cash." He was looking me straight in the eye. Being looked in the eye by death was not an experience I care to repeat.

"It's worth fifty." I hesitate, and picked up two card, "Both utilities."

"Nobody cares about the utilities." He finally averted his eyes, staring at the pieces on the board.

I felt the grin spread across my face, "You do, I saw how mad you got when I landed on them. Both of them, a card, and Boardwalk, for one lousy little railroad."

"You don't think it's lousy." He was faltering, but he still had trading skills. I'm sure he had been playing this game since it was invented, and I was years out of practice. I held my breath; I couldn't afford a sweeter offer. He flipped his braid over his shoulder, and blew a few strands of hair out of his face and smiled. He took the card and held it out between his first two fingers like a man offering me his business card. I took the pile of deeds and passed them to him as I picked up the die and continued to play.

I had never been one for developing property, but I had to in order to keep up with Tristan. He had hotels on the light blue properties before I owned any monopolies myself. I worked my way around the board through luck alone, the $100 rent payments eating away at what I had saved. Before long I had three mortgaged properties and roughly $500 in cash. Then I landed on Park Place, and made the purchase that turned the tides in my favor.

Or so I thought before I blew most of my money on it. I thought I could make him give up some hotels for that piece of property, but he made an offer I couldn't refuse. We were both low on cash, and he didn't want to give up property, so he reached in his back pocket and produced the one thing he knew I would agree to instantly. Park Place, for possession of his little black book. Of course I agreed, I eagerly reached for the tome and opened it, ready to explore whatever it had to say.

"Not yet."

I looked up, startled at how serious his tone had gotten.

"We aren't finished yet. You can look when we're done." He smiled and picked up the die, "And no quitting either, you have to lose fairly."

I sat the book on the corner of the table, trying to keep my mind on the game. I survived four turns on my mortgaged properties, but finally there was nothing left, he had to allow me to concede defeat.